


cas’ first (human) snow

by gf4frogs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feel-good, Fluff without Plot, Snow Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gf4frogs/pseuds/gf4frogs
Summary: Think “Baby’s First Snow!” but with an Angel Of the Lord, Shield of God, celestial eldritch being now human-ified.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 43





	cas’ first (human) snow

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings** : none  
> \- sup, enjoy dorkiness

Castiel looks up at the graying sky and shoves his hands in his coat pockets. The anchors on the radio inside all kept repeating the same warning: that there’s a storm on it’s way; the first blizzard of the season - and he wanted to see it. 

Especially because the cold is much different now that Castiel’s grace is absent; he can feel it in his hands. They’re harder to flex and more red than usual. The effects are almost feeding an inside joke he has with himself; Castiel fell for humanity, and now, he’s getting his own taste of it in everything he does. 

He watches, head tilted back, as the clouds above him darken. Snow has yet to fall. Behind him, the door’s hinges creak. After a pause, footsteps start to grind into the gravel and come to a stop at his side. 

“Not the best place for your first snow, huh? Sorry ‘bout that,” Dean says. He shoves his hands in his pockets, too. 

Castiel looks over to him with a slight tilt to his head and a furrowed brow. 

Then Dean exhales, and the air swirls out in front of him in a pale white. “It’s a _junkyard_ , Castiel, not exactly a place where you can… I don’t know, _frolic to your heart’s content_ , right?” 

Castiel shrugs and his overcoat follows stiffly. He looks out at the forgotten shells of cars around him, being eaten away by rust and time, and can only think of it as a comfort. He returns his attention back to the sky, and it’s grown no darker than it was moments before.

“I think it’s nice either way,” he says.

“I’m just saying…” Dean rocks forward and back on his heels. The gravel crunches under his boots. “It’s a whole lot _nicer_ when you’re out in the middle of nowhere, or a field off the road.”

“That’s irrelevant here, though.” He knows that Dean understands what he means, but Castiel turns to look him in the eye, his expression starting to pinch. They’ve had this conversation before. “I’m not able to transport myself on a whim like in the past.”

Dean meets his eyes and doesn’t waver. “For now,” he says firmly. Castiel only nods once, slightly curt maybe, and looks back at the clouds.

They’re slowly shifting, moving as one darkening mass, like a body of water. The peace has yet to break, but Castiel is content to wait for it. “I like it here anyway.” He says in the meantime. “I like… _sticking around_.”

Dean catches the idiom and Castiel can see, in his periphery, a smile break across his face. “Good. It’s where you belong.”

And there, in front of the house, they both wait patiently for different things. Castiel continues to look skyward, watching the clouds as each moment passes, like it’s easy. It’s much of what he’s been doing for a millennia; waiting and watching silently in the company of the growing Earth. It’s still a wonder to him that he can learn and see new things play themselves out, even after all this time.

In the confines of Heaven, everything is stuck in repeating frames, but on Earth things are constantly in motion. Castiel wiggles his nose and finds that it’s harder to feel, just like his fingers. _This is being human_ , he thinks. 

Castiel then feels a cold prick on his cheek. He pulls a hand from his pocket and brushes at his cheek, but nothing comes away from it. Dean snickers at his side, drawing his attention, and barks out a laugh when Castiel turns to him fully. 

Wordlessly, Dean motions for him to draw a hand over his eyes, miming it out with growing amusement. 

He does, and his hand comes back wet. Castiel blinks and squints up at the sky. The clouds are the same but now, small, white flurries are cascading down around them. 

His eyes track back to Dean and he grins, wide and shocked stupid. Dean is smiling right back, clearly amused. Castiel watches snowflakes settle in Dean’s hair and eyelashes. He looks unblemished, like he could glow.

“You know, I have... seen snow before,” Castiel starts quietly, like he’s telling a secret. “In Heaven. I couldn’t feel it, or it wasn’t... the same - human memory isn’t the most reliable and it is hardly our job to fact check them. But it feels so much _different_.”

“How different?” Dean asks, and he’s squinting through his eyelashes and the slow, snowy haze. “Like, good different?”

“Yes,” he says. Castiel hovers closer to Dean, ducking his head at Dean’s side and cupping his hands between them like he’s sharing something. “It melts here, and it’s not as prickly as I thought it would be.” 

The snow falls into Castiel’s open palms and quickly disappears, melting into his skin. He narrows his eyes and watches closely as they fall. 

Each snowflake that hits Castiel's skin has a _pattern_. A breath escapes him at the discovery, floating between them in a pale cloud. 

“Look, Dean. Look.” Dean leans in closer, lowering himself to Castiel's level, careful not to knock their heads together. He watches in silence as the snow hits, then dissipates, and continues in its slow pattern. Castiel watches Dean’s eyes flick around, following each snowflake. 

“They’re so intricate,” Castiel says. 

Dean nods sagely. “Well, y’know what they say, we’re all unique as snowflakes.”

Castiel’s expression tenses into something pensive. He looks to Dean. “What do you mean?”

“You never heard that?” Dean asks, meeting his gaze. After a quick moment, his confusion fades. “Well, I mean, I guess not.”

“It means we're all different,” he says, “or all our own person. And each snowflake also looks different and has its own... design, I guess, so that’s where we make the comparison.”

“Each one is different from the last?” Castiel’s curiosity pulls his attention back to his palm. 

“Well, yeah.” And Dean cautiously brings his finger above Castiel’s hands to point. With patience, he sees that Dean is right; each snowflake has a pattern completely different than the last. In his mind, Castiel compares them to a spider’s web or a woven piece of fabric in how the patterns interlock. _And humans_ , he notes. 

“They were all the same in Heaven,” he says, his wonder clear in his voice. “Nondescript and… not nearly as captivating.” 

Dean huffs a laugh. With it, comes another cloud in the cold air. Cas can feel the heat of it against his cheek. “Then welcome to the real world, Cas. You’re free of some old soul’s memory loop and dumb visual budget cuts.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel speaks with deep sincerity; it’s something that comes easy with Dean, ever since his rescue from damnation.

“Yeah,” Dean gets out, though it’s strained and barely audible over the strengthening wind. “You, uhm, want some hot chocolate? Bobby’s got some on the stove goin’.”

Castiel smiles, even if he can barely feel his face move when he does. “Yes, I would.”

**Author's Note:**

> heaven isn’t exactly blowing budget on snowflakes idk. dean would foot the bill to see cas smile tho
> 
> #thx for reading :)


End file.
